Once
by MrsBigTuna
Summary: "I know I felt it, once. Even if it only exists now in my memory." Two sides of a shared love. CraigxEllie. Slightly canon to future AU.


_**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or anything for that matter. I'm a pauper. **_

_Summary: "I know I felt it, once. Even if it only exists now in my memory." Two sides of a shared love. CraigxEllie. Slightly canon to future AU. _

_A/N: Just a small ficlet, since I haven't really messed around with this fandom, or anything in nearly a year. I'm in the process of finishing a story, so look out for that in the coming weeks, if my current schedule permits. Anyway, enjoy and review!_

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**Once**

**Ellie:**

I know I felt it, once. Even if it only exists now in my memory. The subtle touches, the hints of his cologne, the intoxication that one glance could erupt in the pit of my stomach. Some might call it love, but that would only be scratching the surface.

Others could chalk it to having Daddy issues. An absent father figure, another anecdote shared at parties where the guests are an array of smudged faces that you wouldn't be able to recall the next morning. I had heard the lot of them, excuses for why I clung to men that would consistently disappoint me, attempting to fill a void that would never be fulfilled. I was the sole pillar of strength for my mother, and maybe I let that be a crutch for becoming obsessed with anyone that showed me the least bit of attention.

I am still trying to figure out exactly what he and I shared, years after the fact. Attraction disguised as intrigue. Curiosity camouflaged as fixation. While I had rejected human contact for much of my formative years, I secretly craved it in nearly everything relating to some kind of intimacy. I suppose it's why I was drawn to him, after months of denial.

I fought it at first, naturally. No one ever willingly loses themselves, surrendering to their vulnerable, often primal needs. But like everything else in relation to him, I came undone. He slowly pealed away any pretenses I managed to construct, broke down whatever walls I had built, and meticulously unveiled what I had so furiously forced myself to protect. I often thought he hadn't a clue what he was doing, wearing oblivion like a suit of armor. If there was anything I envied of him above all else, it was his lack of self-awareness, an enigma to himself. At least, when it came to the hold he had over me.

Despite all of this, we eventually joined, its origin never completely explained. Once, on some unassuming day, without preamble, he took my hand. And while we flourished, nothing ever stood truer than that initial contact. We explored each other, discussed matters in hushed tones, and created our own universe amongst ourselves. We continued in this vein, a consistent spiral as we descended further and further away from what was real, and what was my own expectations. I disappeared inside of them, unsure, or perhaps, unwilling to fight.

Seven months became seven years, and his dreams became my dreams, and we were an 'us'. It never crossed my mind that I had quietly slid my own ambitions aside for his. I had found success in my own right, writing for publications that I had only dreamed about in those first quiet moments in our union, but they slowly pulled down an avenue that allowed to be closer to him. Every decision I made was based with him in mind, and again, I was reminded of my youth, desperately awaiting someone's approval, not realizing it was my own that I needed the most. I had tangled so much of my ideals and desires in a notion; one I was never sure was completely realized. Persistent, I was certain that I hadn't wasted my "golden years" on someone that hadn't always given me what I needed. I mean, what was the alternative?

I don't remember when the change occurred. It could have happened after a drunken romp after a performance, or possibly revisiting friends, seeing their trajectory to adulthood. But one morning, a shadow penetrated our cocoon of ignorant bliss, and planted. Like a veneer, it covered what was broken and deteriorating, and brought them to the light. Finally, I had woken up from a trance and every crack was exposed. It quickly became a singular decision: either let it fester or let go. The resolution didn't arise as fast, and unlike those brief moments of clarity, whatever I held onto that masqueraded as pride was exchanged for fear. Could I start again?

I was in love, once, I think. I want to believe that's what it was. It wasn't lust. It wasn't obsession. It wasn't false, I think. For everything I have ever trusted, I know it happened. For the briefest of moments, I felt something so close to love that it had to have been that, right?

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**Craig:**

I had love in my life, once; a complete, unabashed love. It was a love so inexplicitly real that I can still taste it, if I close my eyes long enough. I can almost make out the gentle sprinkling of freckles that aligned her soft cheekbones. I could feel her penetrating glare, the culprit for much of my anxiety. But most of all, I still hear her hollow chuckle, devoid of much amusement, until she met my gaze. And much like everything I've ever possessed, it disappeared.

It's a strange phenomenon, those first few glimpses of the descent into love. Every sense is heightened, only by an inch, before it stretches on for miles and caverns of uncertainty. Even when I could feel it taking hold, I watched her for an entry, a red flag that she would surreptitiously tuck away, only revealed when you got too close to burn. And I fought for it, for her. We were both creatures of misinterpretation, mistaking admiration for affection, replacing kindness for gratitude. When I saw her, I saw myself. Even though she would never admit it, even now, I knew she needed that symmetry.

So I eased into her fortress, allowing her to approve entrance. From a simple gesture as a hand, I had almost felt her meld into our eventual routine. We reveled in our darkened corners of docile voices, a mirage of security as we rested in our developing, fragile relationship. And as I watched her thrive into the woman that I never doubted she would become, my aspirations mirrored hers. We grew together, and without prelude, nothing mattered more.

We had been a team for so long, and while I climbed the virtual ladder of success, she met me every step, outshining me at nearly every turn. I had wanted to take credit for her confidence, too familiar of the quiet moments of self-doubt she conquered daily. But what I couldn't claim was her defiance, her very nature to press on. She rarely confided to me her actual anxiety of failure or inadequacy, but as quickly as they appeared, they dissolved the moment she was in her element. I was the one that felt inferior most of the time, never owning half the compassion she had for my craft, and usually producing similar results. The competitive spirit never faltered from her vision, even when we were pulling for same goal.

I suppose it was than I felt I was losing my grip of us. I never wanted to claim there was a jealous undercurrent spreading, but it was becoming clearer that a separation was starting. I felt her pulling away, slowly. She became even more reclusive in her attributes, spending most of her waking hours attached to her computer, feverishly creating a delicate bubble that eventually kept her further away. Before long, the familiarity of her touch was replaced by a weird divide, between what I had coveted and what I would receive.

And it than it ended. It was if I had made it all up in my mind, like an apparition that appeared into being. The only thing that felt more real than its end was how easily everything we shared could have been forgotten. While she had had such an integral position in every decision I had made from the time when my fears preceded nearly every action, her fingerprints dissolved from the handiwork it had in our union. Whatever we had created vanished before my eyes, and I was only left with a phantom feeling of love, or love lost.

I had known love, once. If there is anything is this life that I can be certain of, it's that. I never asked for it to end, but sometimes, even our greatest pursuits can never be tangible. It's what makes love such a fickle, unattainable thing. But at least I can say I knew it, if only for a little while, right?

**FIN.**

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_**Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? It's been a while, so please be kind. -MBT**_


End file.
